


Close Calls

by Mystrothedefender



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrothedefender/pseuds/Mystrothedefender
Summary: John is having a bad day, Dr. Leland suggests something that might make him feel better.
Relationships: John Doe/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 15
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

John lay back in his chair, his eyes closed. He wanted to sleep. He just wanted to sleep.

He was having a bad day.

The asylum was so loud.

He just wanted to sleep.

He felt so terrible.

There was no future for him here, he didn’t deserve one, he didn’t want one.

He just wanted to sleep.

Why was it so loud!?

His eyes snapped open, his teeth grit, he gabbed a nearby coffee cup and hurled it towards the source of the noise- a couple of inmates who’d been playing checkers.

The cup smashed against the wall. The room went silent.

John lay back in his chair, his eyes closed.

“Okay,” a guard said from his place near the door, the word slicing through the silence, the sound of his footsteps hammering in John’s head.

John opened an eye and looked up at the guard. “I’m trying to relax,” he growled.

“Why don’t I take you to your room, John, and you can relax there.”

“I don’t want to do that,” John said sternly through gritted teeth, pressing himself back into the chair, digging his heels into the floor and his nails into the palms of his hand.

The guard reached out and grabbed John’s shoulder. “Come on,” he ordered.

John let out a growl. “Stop touching me.”

“John,” the guard said, “You’ll be more comfortable in your room.”

John lifted a hand to push the guard’s hand away from him. “No!” he snapped.

“Okay,” the guard said again, his tone was dismissive, as if he were talking to a naughty child, John could practically hear his eyes rolling.

The guard put his hand back on John’s shoulder, urging him up to his feet, John protested, but there was no way to stop himself being pulled to his feet. The guard was so much stronger than him. He felt so powerless here. He was powerless. He had no control over anything that happened to him. He hated it.

He kicked out at the guard, by chance knocking him to the ground, then he turned, slamming his foot down repeatedly onto him.

“I told you not to touch me,” he said through his teeth.

He knew it wouldn’t last for long, the feeling of control he had right now, kicking the shit out of this guard.

The door buzzed as it opened. John felt adrenaline floor him at the sound. More people coming to fight.

“No-!” he yelped as he was sent flying.

Next thing he knew he was in bed.

He must have hit his head as he fell.

He wasn’t surprised to find that he was strapped to the bed.

A growl worked its way from him, through his teeth.

The straps were so tight. They hurt.

He struggled against them, knowing they wouldn’t break.

He just wanted some quiet.

He just wanted to sleep.

Sleep in his comfy chair in the rec room.

Was that so hard for people to understand?

The lock on his door clicked open after a moment.

They couldn’t even leave him to have a tantrum on his own.

Dr. Leland walked in, a notebook and pen in her hand.

She sat down on the metal chair opposite John’s bed.

She sat, waiting silently, until John stopped struggling.

He turned to look at her, panting softly.

“There was an altercation in the rec room,” she informed him, as if he didn’t know and hadn’t been there.

Her voice was calm and soft, but also stern. She had a very motherly presence, or John thought so at least.

“I was wondering if you’d be happy to tell me your version of the events.”

John breathed slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I just wanted them to be quiet. I just wanted to be left alone.”

Joan raised an eyebrow, “You know the rec room isn’t a quiet place. Why didn’t you go to one of the therapy rooms, or your own room?”

“I wanted to sit in my chair.”

Joan nodded, looking down at her notebook and writing something down. She looked back up at him. “You know the guard you attacked had to be taken to the infirmary.”

John glanced away, a tingle spreading up his back.

He didn’t know why he’d done it. He didn’t know why he’d hurt that man.

He just wanted to be left alone.

“I didn’t…” he started, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“But you did hurt him, John,” Joan said, her voice still soft and calm, she sounded as if she were telling him they’d run out of his favourite cereal, not that he’d put someone in hospital.

John huffed, slamming his head down against his pillow, screwing his eyes closed, gritting his teeth and letting out a weak scream. He clenched his fists and struggled again.

“John?” Joan said, frowning softly as John calmed himself again.

“I thought I was getting better,” he said weakly. “But I keep doing these stupid things!”

“You are getting better, John. You are. Set backs like this are normal. Try to focus on the progress you have made.”

John looked at her again, frowning, she looked back at him.

“You feel bad about what you’ve done, don’t you?”

John gave a small nod.

“That’s progress. You are getting better, John.”

John huffed, looking away. He didn’t feel better. He felt worse.

“Why do I feel like this?” he asked.

“What are you feeling?” Joan asked, “Tell me exactly.”

John grit his teeth. “Restless,” he growled. “I feel like…” he huffed “I can’t do anything. I have to go certain places and do certain things and I don’t want to, I don’t want to do anything.” He huffed again, “I want to go to sleep,” he said quietly. “I feel like something’s wrong, but nothing’s wrong! I’ve been doing this for a year, and it’s been fine, but _now_ I feel like there’s something wrong.”

Joan smiled weakly, “Maybe that’s a sign of growth?” she offered. “You’ve grown as a person, so now your regular confines feel too restrictive.”

“Yeah?” John let out a soft chuckle, “And that’s a good thing?”

“It is,” Joan nodded.

“It feels horrible,” John whined.

“What would you like to do right now?” Joan asked, “If you could pick anything.”

John shrugged.

“You said you wanted to go to sleep?” Joan reminded him.

John shook his head, then paused, then huffed. “I don’t know…” he whined, “I don’t know…”

“You really don’t know?”

John took a few soft breaths, closing his eyes and letting himself be calm.

“I kind of want to talk to Bruce,” he said, almost to himself.

He wasn’t allowed to call Bruce, he knew that, Bruce could come to see him once per week during visiting hours, and they could talk on the phone on Sunday evenings for 30 minutes, on a recorded line, of course.

Joan nodded, she moved her hand, rooting around in her pocket. She pulled out her phone.

“You know his number?” she asked, getting to her feet.

John nodded, a mix of confusion and anxiety and excitement filling him quickly. Was she really giving him her phone?

Joan undid the straps holding John down, and let him sit up before handing him her phone.

John took it, it felt like gold to him.

He felt like a man in a desert being handed a canteen.

He didn’t expect to feel like this.

He glanced up at her, a bewildered smile on his face, then looked back at it and typed in Bruce’s number.

Adrenaline rushed through him as the phone rang. He could feel his heartbeat in every inch of his body. He felt almost sick.

He felt a rush as Bruce answered.

“Hello?” Bruce said, a curious singsong tone to his voice.

John closed his eyes, a tingle spreading through him at the sound of Bruce’s voice.

“Uhh… Hello?” Bruce said again.

“Bruce,” John cooed, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“John?” Bruce questioned, “What? Why are you calling me? How are you calling me?”

“Joan gave me her phone,” John explained, glancing over at her as he spoke.

“Is everything ok?” Bruce asked.

John nodded, “I just… I wanted to hear your voice.” He leaned back on the bed, “How is your day?”

“It’s ok,” Bruce cleared his throat, “I’ve just gotten out of a meeting, they’re going to repurpose one of the old factories near the river into an orphanage, it’ll be the biggest in Gotham, and I’m going to help them do it.”

“That sounds interesting,” John said, Bruce’s voice calming him more than he’d expected it to. “Will you get your name put on it?”

“That’s right. And I’ll be invited in to open it and give talks once it’s open. It’s going to be an amazing experience.”

John nodded again. “I’d love to hear you give a talk. What do you think you’ll talk about?”

“I don’t know, depends on the mood.”

John let out a soft hum.

Bruce cleared his throat softly, “…I actually have to go, John, I’ve got another meeting in a minute.”

“Ok… What’s the meeting about?”

“It’s about refurbishing a water tower in the Narrows.”

“Oh, well I vote yes,” John grinned.

“I’ll let them know.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

“Ok. I really do have to go. I’ll talk to you again on Sunday.”

“Ok. Bye.”

“Ok, bye,” Bruce let out a soft laugh, and John felt a wash of happiness flow over him at the sound.

“Ok, I love you,” John said quickly, pressing the button to hang up.

He let out a laugh, closing his eyes and laying back on the bed, his heart racing.

He looked over at Joan, smiling, “I’ve not said that to him before.”

“You love him?” Joan asked.

“He’s my best friend,” John replied.

Joan let out a soft happy hum, “It’s nice that you have that.” She held out her hand to take her phone back. “From now on, if you feel like you want to chat with Bruce, come and find me, and you can use my phone no questions asked.”

“Really?”

Joan nodded, “I wouldn’t say it without meaning it. I’d also like to try to arrange for you to leave the asylum sometimes, with supervision, but whenever you want, within reason. With the knowledge you can leave whenever you want, you might feel you have a little more control over your day to day life.”

John nodded, a happy laugh leaving him, he clapped his hands together, “Oh, thankyou! I’d love that. Maybe Bruce can be my supervision?”

Joan shrugged, “In time, maybe. You’ve made a lot of progress and we want to lean into that rather than resist it.”

John took Joan’s hand, pressing it to his forehead as if he were kissing it and closing his eyes, letting out a soft breath. “Thankyou, Joan. You’re the best mom a guy could ask for.”

Joan smiled, retracting her hand, “Thankyou, John.” She got to her feet. “I’ll leave you in here, have some rest, try not to cause any more trouble today, ok? Or I’ll have to confine you to your room.”

John nodded, “Ok.” He watched as she walked to the door. “Thankyou!” he cooed softly.

He felt a lot better now.


	2. Chapter 2

For the past 24 hours John had been walking on air.

He’d never felt like this before.

It was weird.

Good weird.

He’d only ever felt bad weird before.

Anxious, worried, stressed, overstimulated, understimulated…

They were all heavy, horrible weights in his gut.

This was different. It was like something was lifting him up rather than weighing him down.

He’d read before that love was the greatest feeling someone could feel.

He thought he’d felt it before, but it had been horrible.

Maybe this was how love was meant to feel?

He’d asked to go into the rec room, they said that he could, with supervision.

He sat down at one of the plastic and metal tables, and took some of the art supplies from the centre of the table. Some card and a pack of crayons.

He folded the card in half and began to draw on the front, a little picture of a black and white dog surrounded by flowers. Inside he wrote

‘Dear Guard Jerry,   
sorry I hurt you, get well soon!  
Love, John Doe <3’

After a while he pulled away, admiring his work, it looked perfect. His writing was getting neater, he thought.

He turned his head back and forth, fixing his eyes on one of the orderlies.

“Yoohoo,” he said, smiling and waving his hand at the man; young, a little overweight with ginger hair and freckles, a real cutie.

“Could I ask a favour of you, buddy?”

The orderly stilled, glancing over at the guard before shuffling over, “Sure, Mr. Doe. What can I do for you?”

He held out the card, delicately, between his fore and middle fingers, “Could you see that this makes its way into the hands of the guard whose ass I kicked.”

“Oh,” the orderly stuttered, shifting on his feet. He glanced over at the guard again, “Am I… is that, uh…”

The guard looked down at the card in his hand, then shrugged, “I don’t see a problem with it.”

John grinned, looking over at the guard, “Thankyou, Guard Walter,” he looked over at the orderly, “And, uh, you’re new right? I don’t think I got your name.”

“It’s Alan. I’ve been here about a week.”

John nodded, “Uh-huh, I don’t really care.” He shook the card in his hand until Alan got the hint and took it from him. “Thankyou,” he sang, grinning.

He turned back to the table, taking another piece of card and folding it, beginning to write out a card for Bruce.

He did this every week. It was something he’d started doing the week after he’d been dropped off at Arkham. He made a little card for Bruce, detailing the things he’d done that week.

‘Dear Bruce,  
This week I started learning to play the violin, I beat up a guard, and I told you I love you. It was a big week for me. Hope you’re doing good too.  
Love, John.’

For the picture on the front of this one he drew a picture of himself, surrounded by hearts.

He turned back to Alan, holding out the card, “And this one goes to Bruce Wayne, please.”

“Bruce Wayne?” Alan said weakly. He glanced between John and the guard again, and John felt a frown come to his face.

“Oh, come on, Alan, have some agency, think for your damn self,” John snapped.

Alan shifted on his feet, “No, I, uh. Bruce Wayne is _here_ , can’t you just give him this yourself?”

John’s frown deepened, “What? What do you mean he’s here? It’s not a Thursday, he visits on _Thursdays_.”

Alan cleared his throat, his face turning pale as the volume of John’s voice rose. “I… it’s just… I saw him? He was talking to Dr. Leland.”

“What?” John whined, he threw his head back, cupping his hand to his face, “So this is what betrayal feels like? Why did no one tell me?”

“I’m telling you now?” Alan offered.

John rolled his eyes, “Oh shut up…” He straightened up in his chair, “I want to see him.”

“Sure,” Alan said, unsure, he looked over at the guard again.

“Alan,” John growled in warning, clicking his fingers to get Alans attention, “What did I _just_ say about thinking for yourself?”

“Hey now,” Walter said, holding up a hand, “Let’s not have a repeat of yesterday. John, threatening won’t get you anything.”

“I’m not threatening,” John said, his voice still a growl. “It’s just a simple fucking request.” He smiled, sweetly, “I would like to see my friend.”

Alan nodded, “Yeah, sure, I can see what I can do.”

John smiled widely, “Thankyou, buddy. I’ll wait here.”

Alan nodded and scampered off. John watched him go, and then let his eyes drift to Walter.

“Don’t look at me like that, Walter,” he grumbled, “How would you feel if your best friend showed up at your house to talk to your mom without telling you?”

“What?” Walter huffed.

John waved his hand dismissively, turning back to his crayons, waiting for Alan to return.

This time he didn’t draw or write anything constructive, he just scribbled. He couldn’t really focus enough to think of anything to actually draw.

Why had Bruce come here? Why was he talking to Joan? Why hadn’t anyone let him know what was going on? Were they hiding something from him?

He let out a low growl, gritting his teeth and throwing his crayon against the wall, disappointment filling him when it didn’t break.

“Damn it.”

Walter huffed, “You’re making the other people here feel uncomfortable, John. Calm down or go back to your room.”

John looked around the room, watching as everyone else averted their eyes. He grit his teeth and let out a growl. “They’re a bunch of babies.”

After a moment he closed his eyes, holding his card to Bruce in his hands, tearing the edges a little.

If he was going to talk to Bruce he didn’t want to be mad. He didn’t want to disappoint him. He had been so happy earlier, he should be happy now. Bruce was here! Wasn’t that something to be happy about?

He slowed his breathing, practicing the techniques he’d been taught.

He took a breath.

‘My name is John Doe.’

He breathed out slowly.

‘I live at Arkham Asylum.’

He breathed in again.

‘My favourite colour is purple.’

“John,” a voice called from the door to the rec room, pulling him out of his exercise.

He opened his eyes and looked over, a smile coming to his face at the sight of Joan.

“Joan!” he said happily, getting to his feet and walking over to the bars. He looked over her shoulder, looking around at the empty space behind her. “Where’s Bruce?” he enquired, his smile wavering slightly.

Joan shifted on her feet, “Yes, I heard you’d been told he was here.”

John’s smile dropped totally. “Oh,” he said weakly, he let out a laugh, “I wasn’t meant to know?” he let out another laugh, the noise straining as it left him, his heart jumping in his chest, was it breaking? Was that what this was?

“He doesn’t want to see me, does he?” he hissed, grabbing the bars. “He hates me, I knew it!” he rattled the bars aimlessly. “I knew it.”

Joan crossed her arms, cocking her head slightly, “John, you’re assuming the worst.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a soft whine. “I am?” he asked quietly.

“You are,” Joan assured him. “Bruce was here to discuss business.”

“What business does he have here?” John inquired.

“We’re hoping to get some funding for new recreational programs.”

John scoffed, “And you thought you could milk my millionaire best friend for all he’s worth, huh?”

Joan smiled weakly, “He offered first, we didn’t pursue him.”

John frowned, pouting and whining again. “He doesn’t even want to say hi to me? Is it because of what I said yesterday?”

Joan’s smile widened, “He actually did mention your conversation.” She leant against the bars, something she wouldn’t usually do. “I’ve never seen him blush before.”

John clasped his hand to his mouth. “Really?”

“I’m sure he’d rather talk to you about it.” She inserted her key card into the door, pulling it open, she twitched her head as a gesture for him to come through. “If you’ll follow me.”

John smiled, “This is just what I was hoping would happen.” He walked through the door and followed Joan down the hall.

Joan opened one of the doors, revealing Bruce sitting at the table, a pile of paperwork in front of him.

John slipped in silently, sitting opposite him, Joan took a seat on the chair in the corner of the room.

“Hey, Bruce,” John smiled.

Bruce glanced up from the paperwork, “John.”

John smiled awkwardly, watching Bruce read. He looked Bruce up and down. “So… How you doing, buddy?”

“Good,” Bruce said, licking his finger to turn the page.

John let out a weak laugh, looking over his shoulder at Joan, widening his eyes a little and giving an awkward shrug. She smiled and gave a weak nod, letting him know it was ok.

“Uh,” John could felt his skin crawling, he felt as if he were being interrogated or something.

“You know, it’s against the Asylum rules to use a doctor’s phone,” Bruce said, not looking up from the paperwork.

John shrugged and smiled, “Yeah. But she said it was ok.”

“I know what she said.” Bruce took a page and placed it in front of John.

John raised an eyebrow, “Am I being reprimanded?” He took the paper and began to read, absently putting the card he’d made down on the table.

“No,” Bruce shook his head, “I’m just making sure everything’s above board.” He smiled, finally looking back up at him, “So you don’t get in trouble for calling me every day, and so I can call you back, and I’m not left in the lurch before a meeting.” He raised an eyebrow, “You know I screwed up in my meeting after our call, and I wasn’t able to sleep last night.”

John bit his lip, “Sorry,” he grunted. He let out a soft laugh, and let out a cooed ‘aw’ noise, “Did I really get to you that much?”

Bruce shrugged, continuing through the paperwork.

“I said sorry, Bruce.”

“Sign the paper,” Bruce ordered.

John frowned, glancing at the paper again, “What?”

“Sign it,” Bruce repeated.

John glanced back at Joan again, shrugging again, this time in confusion.

“Go ahead,” Joan said quietly, John found her tone so comforting, the butterflies in his stomach instantly settled. He took a pen from the table and signed his name at the bottom of the document.

“Ok, now what?” he frowned.

Joan tapped him on the shoulder, a smile on her face. She held a phone out to him.

John took it from her, his eyes flicking from her to the phone, and then to Bruce.

“Bruce, what’s going on?” he studied the phone, an old flip phone, the sort you got for $15 and used to arrange drugdeals.

Bruce pulled out his phone, and typed a number in. A moment later the phone in John’s hand rang, making him jump.

John looked at the phone, then at Bruce, then opened the phone and answered, holding it to his ear.

Bruce smiled, “John, I love you too,” he said into his phone, the words echoed through the speaker of the flip phone and sent a shiver down John’s spine.

John felt a wide smile split his face, and he hung up. “Is this… mine?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Joan stepped in to explain, “It’s a heavily modified phone, you can only call certain numbers, and only certain numbers can call you. It will be topped up based on good behaviour, and it cannot access the internet. It’s one of the new programs Mr. Wayne has helped fund.”

John’s mouth lulled open slightly, “So I can call you whenever I want?”

“Without having to hunt Dr.Leland down to use her phone, and risking getting in trouble,” Bruce added.

“And you can call me whenever you want?” John added.

Bruce nodded.

“That’s amazing!” John proclaimed. “I love it!” he stilled for a moment, something clicking in his head, “You love me, Bruce?” he asked, his voice suddenly a lot more contemplative.

He’d been so confused before now that he’d only just realised what Bruce had actually said.

His smile softened, “You said you love me too?”

“I did,” Bruce affirmed with a nod. “I have for a while, I think,” he continued, “But I wanted you to say it to me first.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” John grinned. He turned back to Joan, “You were right, he’s not mad at all!”

“I know,” Joan nodded, “We planned this together.”

John reached over the table to grip Bruce’s face, pulling him up into an enthusiastic hug, pulling away laughing. “This is going to change my life.” He gasped after a second and looked down at the table, picking up the card he’d made for Bruce. “I almost forgot, I made you this!” he squeaked, thrusting the card into Bruce’s face.

Bruce took it dutifully, and looked at the picture on the front, “Your art’s getting a lot better.” He opened the card and read through, “Your handwriting is too.” He frowned as he read, “Wait, you beat up a guard? John…”

“No, no, no,” John said quickly, putting his finger to his lips, “This is a nice moment, don’t ruin it with your-“ he waved his hand, pouting a little, “Y’know, goody-two-shoes act.”

“It’s not an act,” Bruce smiled.

“For your information, I wrote a card to the guard, apologising for what I did,” John said, proudly.

Bruce’s smile widened, “Good.”

“I wasn’t even told to write it.”

Bruce gave a soft nod, “ _Very_ good.”

“That is good,” Joan said softly.

John looked back at her, frowning, “Do you mind, we’re having a moment here.”

Joan huffed, crossing her arms, “And I’m chaperoning you. You know I had a large part in this myself, am I not worthy of your thanks just because you don’t find me attractive?”

John shrugged, his body language turning sheepish, “I never said I didn’t find you attractive,” he muttered, “But thankyou.”

He turned back to Bruce, seeing a soft happy look on his face. He let out a tittered laugh, “What?” he asked.

Bruce shrugged, “It’s nice, seeing how you’ve improved.”

John let out a soft grunt, “Sure it’s nicer from an outside perspective. Not super great for me personally.”

“Well, now, if you’re having a bad time you can call me up to talk about it.”

“Yeah. That’ll be nice.”

Joan cleared her throat, “We’d prefer it if you talked to us about what was bothering you, John. It’s important that we know what’s wrong and how you’re progressing, so we can help you.”

“Oh,” John said, rolling his eyes, “Yeah. I’ll just repeat everything I tell you to Bruce, I don’t mind.”

Bruce huffed, shaking his head weakly, he tapped the pile of forms, “That’s all the forms filled out,” he stated before getting to his feet, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a full afternoon ahead of me.” He looked at John, smiling, “I’ll call you later.”

John nodded at Bruce happily, holding his phone tightly to him as if it were made of gold. “I look forward to it.”

“Ok. I’ll show you out, Mr.Wayne,” Joan said, she stood up, and turned to John, “The guard outside will escort you, whenever you’re ready, John.”

John nodded, smiling as he watched them leave, he rested his hand on his chin, taking a moment to dwell in the happiness filling him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was kinda meant to be a one-shot, but it's so cute I just gvwiafguwfhghrabfhabfhjlafbh??? Y'know!!!! I don't even know if its good but I love it.


	3. Chapter 3

John flopped down onto his bad that night, dressed in his Arkham issue pyjamas, tired from therapy. Therapy was always tiring, it was getting less exhausting, though, slowly.

He pulled his new purple plaid blanket over himself and snuggled down, thinking about what he and Joan had talked about during his session.

They’d discussed the cellphone, the privilege that it was, and that if he wanted to keep it he’d have to keep trying to get better.

They talked about the other things he’d been given.

He’d been given a lot of new things since he came back to Arkham, with the promise that he could keep them.

He could keep them when he got out.

As if it were a certainty now, that he could do.

Joan had asked what John wanted to do when he got out, and he hadn’t really been sure how to answer.

Bruce had been the first thing to come to his mind, of course, he wanted to be with Bruce.

His best friend.

But other than that?

He had no idea.

He’d been sent away with the instruction ‘try thinking about that for me, John.’

He closed his eyes, his hands behind his head, fingers knitted into his hair.

He let the darkness and silence surround him, and he tried to think about it.

Then his phone rang.

The harsh high pitched tones racked him, making his jump out of his skin, it took him a few seconds to realise what was going on, at the realisation he began to laugh.

He scrambled to find his phone and flipped it open, still laughing, he tried to stop himself but that just made it worse.

He pressed the phone to his ear, laughter still spilling from him.

“John?” he heard Bruce say down the line.

“Br-Bruce,” John snickered, holding his hand to his mouth, forcing his breathing to slow, forcing himself to stop laughing.

“You good?” Bruce asked awkwardly.

“I-I,” John hiccupped, letting out a soft hoot as he calmed down. “I’m _fantastic_. I’ve had a very good day.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bruce said, relieved.

“Why wouldn’t I be good?” John asked, sitting up in the bed.

“I don’t know. I thought perhaps you’d gotten overwhelmed, today being as busy as it was.”

John shrugged, contemplating how the day had gone. “No. Today was busy, but it was exciting, not stressful.”

He waited for Bruce to respond, but he didn’t. John felt a smile spread across his face, sometimes Bruce would just let John talk and talk, he knew when John needed to talk.

He paused, stopping himself from spilling into an explanation of his day and how what had happened had made him feel. He let out a soft breath.

“You know, I really meant it,” John said softly. “When I said I love you.”

“I didn’t doubt that,” Bruce said.

“No, I don’t,” he shook his head, “I know I said it, before, and I meant it, obviously. But I _meant_ it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” John tapped his head gently against the wall, trying to figure out his thoughts. “I said it because I wanted to tell you, like it was a fact you should know. But it’s something I _feel_.”

Bruce let out a soft laugh, “If you want to tell me you love me you can. If you feel it you should tell me.”

“You always know exactly what I need to hear. You don’t talk over me or tell me what you think I’m feeling,” John said, his tone pensive.

“And that’s why you love me?” Bruce enquired, John could hear his smile, it made his heart flutter.

“Yeah,” John half-muttered, a soft frown coming to his face, “You’ve always done it.” He cocked his head a little, “Do you do that with everyone?”

Bruce let out a soft huff as he thought, “I… try to, I suppose. I like to know what people think without influencing them, or manipulating them accidentally.”

“Yeah?” John swayed absently, letting out a weak hum, “I should get some nail polish, so I can paint my nails while I’m talking to you.”

John heard Bruce stifle a laugh, and he felt his heart swell. “What? Can’t a guy paint his nails while talking to his best buddy?”

“You can do whatever you like,” Bruce replied dutifully. “Maybe I should get nail polish too.”

John gasped, “We could colour coordinate our nails! Wouldn’t that be the cutest? Then all the boys at school would know they couldn’t touch me.”

Bruce held back another laugh, and John’s smile grew wider still.

“What colour would you paint your nails?” Bruce asked, “If you could.”

John shrugged, pouting a little. “Purple, probably.”

“Really?” Bruce sounded surprised. “I would have thought green, to match your eyes.”

The smile popped right back onto John’s face, the swelling in his chest moving up his throat.

“You know what colour my eyes are?” he asked.

“Of course,” Bruce scoffed, “Kinda hard to miss.”

“Is that why you love me?” John enquired, softly, his voice low and quiet, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask that or not.

“It’s certainly one of the reasons.”

John took a tentative breath, “What are, uh, the other reasons?”

Bruce took a moment to answer, a moment during which John felt his anxiety skyrocket.

What if he didn’t have an answer?

“It’s just… the way you are. Your enthusiasm, your optimism, your sense of humour.”

John let out an unsure hum, feeling himself calm down slightly as Bruce talked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said back. “Everything about you, really.”

John bit his lip, “Are you sure?” he asked, “You know I’m uh… I’m a pretty bad person, Bruce. The things I’ve done.”

“You’re not a bad person, John,” Bruce assured him.

“I beat up a guard yesterday, Bruce.” John confessed. “He’s in the hospital.”

“I know, Joan told me.”

A moment of silence passed between them, John’s stomach twisted as if he expected Bruce to yell at him, tell him off.

“It was a setback, John,” Bruce said, his voice soft and reassuring, “You were overstimulated, you couldn’t help it.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse,” John growled. “What if we were… walking through a park, or something, and I beat up a kid because they were being too loud?”

“John,” Bruce cooed, trying to calm him, “That won’t happen. If we go to a park together it’ll be when you’re able to do it without that happening.”

John slammed himself back against the wall, closing his eyes, “But that’ll be… That’ll never happen. Bruce, it’s been months, and I’m nowhere close to getting out of here.”

“John,” Bruce cooed again. “Take a deep breath, centre yourself.”

John grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, forcing a slow breath, then a second, then a third.

“You will get out, John,” Bruce assured him, “You’ve already made so much progress. It’s ok to be frustrated, but you are not a bad person, and you are getting better. The fact you feel bad about what you did proves that.”

John huffed, “That’s what Joan said too.”

“You should be proud of yourself,” Bruce said. “I’m proud of you,” he added.

“Thankyou,” John mumbled.

“Why are you thanking me? I’m just telling you what I think.”

John shrugged, rubbing the back of his head where he’d thumped it against the wall, checking his fingers for blood- there was none. “It’s just nice to hear it from someone else, I guess.”

Bruce let out a weak chuckle, “I can understand that.”

John smiled again, “Have I told you before, that you always say what I need to hear.”

“You have.”

“Thankyou, for that.”

“You’re welcome… Now, about that nail polish. Purple, you said?”

John nodded, feeling calm fall over him again, “It’s my favourite colour.”

“Maybe I could bring some, when I visit on Thursday.”

John chuckled weakly, “We’re not allowed gifts without permission, you know that.”

“I do know that,” Bruce concurred, “I was thinking I could bring in some nail polish, and I could paint your nails during our visit.”

John let out a quiet yawn, nodding absently, “That sounds great. Are you good at painting nails? I’m not having you do a hack job…”

“I have many hidden talents.”

John nodded to himself again, “Ok. I want dark purple, like a plum colour?”

“Ok,” Bruce said.

“Ok,” John echoed.

There was another moment of silence between them.

It wasn’t an awkward silence.

It was nice.

Like they were just being with each other.

“How was your day?” John said, quietly, part of him not wanting to break the silence.

“It was good. Got a lot done.”

“Your meetings go well?”

“Yes. Very well.”

“Good.”

“Are you tired, John?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” John said, reluctantly.

“Would you like to hang up and go to sleep?”

John shook his head, “No.”

“Would you like to stay on the phone and go to sleep?”

John laid down on the bed, pulling the blanket back over him. “Tell me about your meetings.”

“Hoping I’ll bore you to sleep?”

John let out a weak laugh, “It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Well. After I visited you I went to Waynetech, they had some new things to show me. There was a new chip that’s supposed to make the production of electric cars more efficient, although I can’t say I was paying attention to how it does that. And then I went to dinner and met with a journalist and we talked about how the infrastructure of Gotham needs improving and how I’m trying to help do that, and I’m being pulled into helping out with a gala now too to raise money for the GCPD. And now I’m hoping to get a couple of hours sleep before I head out for the night.”

Bruce paused for a moment, listening to the near silence, he could hear soft breathing down the line.

“John?”

Another moment passed.

“John?”

Bruce let out a weak chuckle.

“Goodnight John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this cute shit!!

**Author's Note:**

> Lockdown soundoff *toot toot* I'm very bored. I hope yall are doing well. Leave a comment and/or come talk to me at mystrothedefender.tumblr.com!


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